Sleater-Kinney: Band of sisters

By CATHRIN SCHAER

So what's it like being a chick who rocks? In answer you can almost hear the disdainful shrug of shoulders at the other end of the phone line.

"I think that [kind of thing] is just a ghetto for women," sighs Janet Weiss, drummer with American indie legends Sleater-Kinney. "I mean, would you ask other bands how they feel about being guys who rock? It's just taken for granted that guys rock, whereas girls who rock are this unusual thing," she grumbles. "You do kind of get sick of that question."

She's got a point. And because she's in an all-girl, pop-punk group, renowned for their furiously rocking live performances and poetic-political lyrics, it's also a question Sleater-Kinney have been asked an awful lot during their career.

At one stage their public relations people were apparently telling journalists not to broach this subject or risk being hung up on.

Sleater-Kinney was formed eight years ago after guitarists Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein, who met in 1992, briefly became lovers then decided to start their own group.

The pair began playing in a practice space on Sleater-Kinney Rd in hometown Olympia, Washington State, and recorded their self-titled debut album in 1995. Weiss joined them in 1997 after several drummers had come and gone.

The trio was influenced by what was known as the "Riot Grrrl" movement, a combination of feminism, liberal politics, mohawk haircuts and sparkly hairclips, combat boots and silver high heels. Joan Jett and Bikini Kill were primary influences.

"It was like young women exploring feminism in a language they could understand," Weiss explains. "They were trying to translate feminist ideas for a younger generation because they didn't relate to the old 70s model of feminism."

It was a political kind of youth culture, which is why Sleater-Kinney's intelligent lyrics are often confrontational but there's also always a dark sense of humour at work.

"I could be demure/ like girls who are soft for/ boys who are fearful/ of getting an earful/ but I gotta rock/ I'd rather be a Ladyman" is how they sum it up on Ballad of a Ladyman, a song they wrote after male musicians at a festival called them lady-men.

"We're more manly than most of those indie-rock boys," Tucker joked to a British reporter. "We could just crush them."

And slowly but surely that attitude and sense of irony has won the trio fans in the mainstream audience, too.

Sure, in the past they have drawn attention to themselves with what you might call some pretty punk-rock antics. At one set, Brownstein kicked a microphone stand into the face of a persistent heckler, while at another performance Tucker issued the following, much-quoted remark: "We just want to say that we're not here to [expletive] the band. We are the band."

Despite - or perhaps because of - such unladylike behaviour, by the late 90s, ardent, mainly male US rock critics were enthusiastically calling them "the only rock'n'roll band that matters", "the most important rock band of the year". A reviewer in Time magazine named them "the best band in America".

Obviously, things have changed a lot since the group started. The Riot Grrrl has gone the way of Rubik's Cube and the young ladies with guitars are all grown up - they started as idealistic twentysomethings and are now approaching, or in, their 30s.

Tucker has a son, Marshall; Weiss has been recording and touring with her other band, Quasi, and Brownstein has concentrated on her acting, taking part in an independent movie. Some of those lessons in life and music are reflected on their latest album, One Beat, released earlier this year.

"You learn a lot musically and there are things you want to try, different ideas," says Weiss.

Besides the predictable post-September 11 songs about American xenophobia, there are also tracks about motherhood and relationships. And, although they have never had a bassist and probably never will, they have graduated to occasional use of a horn section, strings and keyboards.

Yet despite the years and their ever-growing popularity with guys as well as girls, the women of Sleater-Kinney are still sticking to their ideals. They're still turning down recording deals from major labels and offers from mainstream rock festivals. They still like to play at events with a conscience.

For instance, members of the group are also organisers of LadyFest, a festival held in their hometown for women by women, that includes guitar, skateboarding and knitting lessons alongside workshops with titles such as "I'd Rather be Fat Than Brainwashed."

"And we have total control of our careers," Weiss adds. "We say what we want to say and no one tells us what lyrics to write."

And that, Weiss thinks, is probably the secret of Sleater-Kinney's long-running success.

"I don't really know for sure [why people like us]. Hopefully it's the music," she says wryly. "And we're not phony. We write from our experiences and we try to enjoy ourselves when we play. I guess people like us for all the same reasons I would like a band. It means something to you. You respect what the musician has to say and there's some kind of emotional satisfaction."

Of course she's right, the secret of their success must have something to do with all that. Oh yeah, and there's also the fact that these chicks really rock.

* Sleater-Kinney play the Kings Arms, Fri, Dec 6 and Sat, Dec 7.